


Plum Pudding

by SPowell



Series: Merlin_Writers Holiday Bingo series [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Christmas Dinner, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin makes his mother's plum pudding with less than happy results.</p><p>December's theme prompt: worst Christmas pudding ever, but it's made with love so it has to be eaten.</p><p>Disclaimer: The characters herein belong to BBC, Shine, and legend, and I make no money from this endeavour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plum Pudding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidhe_faerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidhe_faerie/gifts).



> Written for Merlin_writers Holiday bingo: plum pudding  
> Also for December's theme of the month, prompt: The worst Christmas cookies/biscuits ever, and they are made with love so they have to be eaten. I changed the cookies to plum pudding, obviously.

Arthur enters the flat to the distinct smell of baking, hanging his coat in the hall closet before venturing into the kitchen to find Merlin covered in flour and Christmas carols playing on is iPod. Merlin was so excited when his mother’s book of recipes arrived that morning; Arthur isn’t surprised that he’s already making something.

“What smells so good?” Arthur asks, pulling Merlin in for a kiss, uncaring that his suit front gets floury and he acquires two white hand prints on his arse.

“Plum pudding!” Merlin kisses Arthur again, blue eyes dancing. “My mum’s special recipe. We’re taking it to Leon and Morgana’s tonight.” He brushes his hands off. “I still can’t believe you had to work on Christmas Eve.”

“It was only for a few hours.” Arthur shoves his hands in his pockets and looks about the demolished kitchen. Every surface is covered with appliances and bits of food. “Father left a few things hanging before his flight to Paris.”

“Umph,” Merlin grumbles, and Arthur knows he’s making an effort not to complain about Arthur’s father.

“May I have a little taste of the plum pudding?” Arthur asks, making sad puppy eyes at Merlin.

“No,” Merlin shakes his head.

Arthur pouts.

“Go on, you. Shower. We have to be there in two hours.”

“Shower with me,” Arthur says with a sly smile. “It’ll be faster.”

“I highly doubt that,” Merlin replies, but follows him into the bathroom anyway.

***

“Pass me another pig-in-a-blanket, would you?” Merlin asks Lance, who obliges.

“Why isn’t this man fat?” Morgana demands, indicating Merlin. “He eats like a pig!”

“He’ll work it off later,” Arthur says, and there are groans around the table.

“We don’t want to hear about what you’ll be up to in the bedroom,” Will tells him flatly.

“Tread mill,” Arthur says distinctly, leaning forward. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Arthur winks at Merlin, who grins widely. “We already had sex in the shower, Will, before we came.”

Will grimaces.

“Pass the parsnips, please,” Gwen says lightly. “Everything’s so delicious, Morgana.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” Morgana smiles. “Oh, and save room for dessert! Merlin’s made a wonderful plum pudding using his mother’s recipe.”

“Yes, I received her book of recipes from Uncle Gaius this morning,” Merlin tells them. He appears at peace, but Arthur wraps an arm around him anyway, knowing that Merlin still isn’t over the unexpected death of his mother of a heart attack last month.

“Can’t wait to try it,” Gwaine states taking another bite of turkey.

When dinner’s over and the plates are cleared away, Elena and Morgana bring in the plum pudding, a dark, bowl-shaped concoction set in the middle of a red plate and adorned with a sprig of holly. Arthur has to admit it looks good.

Everyone claps their hands.

“Beautiful, Merlin!” Gwen praises.

Merlin blushes. “Well, let’s hope it tastes as good as it looks,” he replies modestly.

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Arthur states. “Merlin spent all day on it.”

“Did you know that people used to bake small, silver charms into the pudding?” Merlin asks as Morgana serves each person a slice. “They each meant something. For example, if you got the silver anchor, it meant safe habour. If you got the silver coin, it meant wealth in the coming year.”

“Fascinating,” Leon tells him. “I’m afraid I’d break a tooth if we were to do that.”

Arthur chuckles. “My charm would probably wind up in my appendix, and I’d spend the night in hospital having it removed.” Everyone joins in the laughter.

When each person has their serving, Arthur makes a toast with his glass of wine.

“To wonderful friends and loved ones, and to a happy year to come.”

“Here, here!” They all raise their glasses, clinking them together, and drink before digging into the pudding.

There’s silence as everyone takes a moment to savour the rich dessert on their tongues. Arthur doesn’t think that plum pudding is supposed to be so…chewy. He looks up, meeting Gwen’s eyes across the table. She quickly looks back down at her plate.

Merlin glances expectantly around at his friends’ faces, and Morgana takes a quick sip of her wine.

“Why Merlin, you’ve outdone yourself,” she says after swallowing, smiling broadly at him.

Arthur pastes a similar smile on his own face and nods, taking another large bite of the pudding, which goes in sweet but leaves a rancid taste in his mouth the moment he swallows.

“You’re not eating,” Arthur says to Merlin.

“Oh, I’m allergic to dates,” Merlin tells him. “Are you sure it’s good?”

He looks so hopeful, Arthur can’t do anything else but nod and take another large bite. The stuff seems to expand when it hits his stomach, crowding everything else.

“Excuse me,” Gwen says a moment later, getting up from the table and walking as casually as possible to the bathroom.

Will has a studious look on his face as he chews slowly, avoiding everyone’s eyes, and Lance takes frequent sips of his wine.

“I’m watching my waistline, but it’s truly wonderful, Merlin,” Elena says, pushing her plate back and patting her stomach.

Gwaine is making a real effort, Arthur can tell, but it’s slow going. Arthur happens to know that Gwaine has an easy gag reflex and only hopes he can get through this.

“It’s very good,” Leon tells Merlin with a nod and a smile, and Arthur can see how Leon’s purposely avoiding his wife’s eyes.

Arthur finishes his slice with a sigh, the final bite feeling like a boulder sliding down his throat. He looks over at the large amount of pudding still remaining and then at Merlin, who Arthur can see is valiantly trying not to look bothered by the fact that it isn’t more well-received.

“Cut me another slice, Morgana,” Arthur firmly tells his sister, handing his plate over.

Morgana’s eyes widen just a little, but she takes the plate and cuts Arthur a generous piece. When Merlin’s back is turned, Arthur sees Gwaine slide the rest of his pudding from his plate into Elena’s purse, snapping it shut. Elena glares at him.

“Mate, that was…magical,” Gwaine gets up from the table, pausing to watch Arthur scarf down the second slice. It seems easier to eat it quickly, Arthur muses.

“Wow, so you like it?” Merlin asks with wonder, and Arthur nods.

“It’s delicious. Must be exactly like your mother’s.”

The smile he receives from Merlin is well worth the terrible ache that is gradually forming in Arthur’s gut.

“God, you must really love him,” Morgana whispers to Arthur as they get ready to leave an hour later.

Arthur hugs her, whispering in her ear. “Fuck, Morgana, I’m dying. I may be calling you from hospital later.”

She hugs him back, hard, her lips pressed close to his ear.

“That was truly the most God-awful pudding I’ve ever tasted.”

***

As soon as they get home, Arthur spends an extraordinary amount of time in the bathroom.

“All right?” Merlin asks when Arthur finally appears in their bedroom, freshly showered and dressed in his pyjamas.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighs. “I think Morgana’s poor excuse for stuffing did me in.”

Merlin laughs. “She’s not much of a cook, is she, poor thing.” He pats the bed beside him. “Come here, love.”

Arthur climbs under the covers, snuggling in close, nose pressed to Merlin’s neck and arms wrapped around him.

“Happy Christmas, Arthur. I love you,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s hair.

“I love you, too, Merlin. You don’t know how much.”

Arthur’s stomach gurgles loudly in agreement.

 

 


End file.
